


The Dangers of Nostalgia

by Diredevil



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: CP_5gorge, Gen, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 05:21:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3196889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diredevil/pseuds/Diredevil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I don't even know why I'm here. I guess it musta been for some sort of nostalgia or some shit like that...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dangers of Nostalgia

I don't even know why I'm here. I guess it musta been for some sort of nostalgia or some shit like that... Although I was never really fond of 5gorge and it's been out of use for quite a while at this point. It's easy enough to break in, the fences were more of a boundary for respawn anyhow. Kinda weird not having the constant whirl of machinery or explosions happening every few seconds... Even the control points are a dull grey, the lighting hubs uncracked or touched by time. I turn to look towards the old BLU base and I try to keep that stupid tiny smile from escaping at the flashbacks that flicker across my mind. It wasn't a horrible time, but it wasn't the best... 

 

Turning back towards building between point A and B, I freeze, hearing the scrape of a blade against concrete. It was a solid drag, so that crossed Medic off the list with his horrid bonesaw, and the sound was longer than any of Spy's fancy knives... I turn once more and catch a glimpse of _that_ hat. Sniper. Can't tell what color, but that's him.

 

I'm tempted to hide under the bridge that has our point B, but before I even get to the point, there's footsteps behind me to the left and a familar almost feral sounding "Hello, mate" before there's searing pain in my left side. Instincts kick in and since I stupidly came here without a weapon, flight is the only option. I slap a hand over the gash in my side (shit that's really painful and deep and holy fuck that's a lot of blood) and start running for the center control point. My feet almost slip out from under me as I run around the corner, my mind quickly choosing downstairs instead of going up. The crates seem like a really good idea to hide behind at that moment. My lungs hurt from the kick of adreneline and running for my life. Looking down at my side and my blood stained hand, it clicks that it probably wasn't a good idea to come here...

 

The thought is stopped from going anywhere else by that scraping again and it's right near the control point. I'm silently begging for him to just go away, too busy cowering to realize I left a pretty obvious trail of blood... I'm yanked up by my shirt collar and pinned to the wall. He doesn't have any colors... Shit. And of course that's when my mouth starts running.

 

"Snipes, man, it's me. It's Jay, c'mon man... Don't do this shit." The rate of words spewing out of my mouth increases when he moves the blade closer to my face. I'm shaking, I know I am, although it's a little hard to feel since I'm going cold from the blood loss. I can't tell if there are tears at first, but when he drops the kukri and places his hand around my neck, I know there are. I try to keep the words coming, trying to snap him back to reality, but by the way his hand is tightening, it isn't working. My ears are starting to ring and my vision goes a bit spotty.

 

"P... Please..." It's the last word I rememeber getting out before darkness takes over and my lungs stop taking in air. I really should have stayed away from here...


End file.
